Hogsmeade
by spectrosilver
Summary: Ficlet. DP. 'She turned around, half expecting the voice only to be in her head.'


Disclaimer: I do not own rights to Harry Potter. All characters and related material belong to J.K. Rowling.  This is for entertainment purposes only, no money is being made.

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**Hogsmeade**

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spectrosilver

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            The sky was blue, the sun was warm.  Students lined the streets of Hogsmeade, pockets filled with treats and tricks and presents for friends.  Ears stung from the echoing shouts of the younger students, noses were tempted by the sweet smell of chocolate and sugar.  It was the last visit of the year, and the end of term was looming ahead.  

            "Parkinson." He said from behind.  She turned around, half expecting the voice only to be in her head.  Hogsmeade wasn't a place where they had socialized much the last few years.  Whatever the reason, it had just become a habit _not_ to talk to one another in the village. She'd walk with the girls; as annoying as they were they always treated her like royalty. He'd walk with the boys; tolerating their bland personalities and lack of intelligence for their willingness to be his personal servants. But he was there, right in front of her, his blonde hair almost white in the sun.  He smelled like butterbeer and chocolate.  No, no.  As she took a deep breath in, she realized that was just the air.  Draco smelled stronger, firewhiskey perhaps.  The women in the bar had always had a weakness for Slytherin men.  Pansy stared at the boy in front of her; his hair ruffled, his robes sloppy. He took her hand.  Pansy crooked her neck to see where the girls had gone.  Their main cares in life were gossip and over-used beauty spells.  They were such...girls.  She, of course, was a girl too, and she had to admit she held quite an interest for the same things they did.  But _to hell with the girls, Pansy thought as she walked down the crowded street with Draco.  People noticed them together, walking, holding hands.  It was almost as if they _were_ royalty; the crowd seemed to open in intimidation as they walked on.  _

            "Draco," Pansy began as they neared a break in the crowd. "Er," she stuttered as he marched on, the silence between the two becoming uncomfortable.  "Draco, why are you doing this?"  Pansy said in almost a whisper.  In an instant, Draco halted and flung Pansy around roughly.  His hand pressed sharply around her arm as she shrieked in pain.  

            "Well, Parkinson," he smirked.  Pansy exhaled, he could be rougher than he realized sometimes and she figured this had been just another instance.  She smelled the sour odor of whiskey in his breath as he talked on.  "It's our last trip here.  Crabbe and Goyle, the dumb oafs.  They're still in Honeydukes stuffing their faces." His voice was light and almost friendly.  But then again, Pansy Parkinson was a master at reading his dialect, so it may have sounded completely rude to any eavesdropping bystanders.  "I can't walk around here by myself, think how I'd look."  He said simply as she frowned.  That had not been the response she was looking for.  She wanted something more...thrilling.  She wasn't sure what she had expected, but she wanted something besides the blunt, obvious true.  She wanted something to hear something…romantic.  Unfortunately, coming from the mouth of Draco Malfoy, hearing anything like _that was more unlikely than a flobberworm teaching itself to fly.  _

            "Oh," was all she said, disappointment hidden in the tone.  The continued to walk, but she couldn't help notice that Draco seemed oddly tensed.  Relaxed by the small amount of alcohol pulsing through his veins, but strangely stressed at the same time.  He was being extremely physical for a Malfoy in public; his arm had found its way onto her shoulder as they walked.  Every past rendezvous they had shared was strictly private.  Out of all the odd behavior, what surprised her the most was that he didn't even mind the saintly Potter's snickers as they passed.  He very well hadn't heard it, but she hadn't known him to refuse a chance to curse Potter.  As the spring sun began to go down and the last breath of winter blew through, a chill ran up Pansy's spine great enough for Malfoy to notice.  He slipped his cloak around her smoothly, barely letting go of her hand.  Pansy couldn't help but notice that, while he was doing so, a sleeve of his undershirt was pushed up.  On his arm, the Dark Mark glowed brightly.  

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**a/n****: I've assumed Pansy is a few months younger than Draco, meaning she hasn't received the Mark yet.  Also, if this ficlet contradicts anything in the books (I couldn't remember if they were together in Hogsmeade in OotP or not…forgive me!) I'm sorry.  I just had an idea for this and went with it…**


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